


Perhaps, a Friend?

by gloryasme



Series: FNAF but in no particular order because the timeline doesn't exist [11]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Adoption, Age Regression/De-Aging, Canon Character of Color, Character(s) of Color, Clay Burke is tired, Families of Choice, Female Character of Color, Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights Series, Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights: Fetch, Its a Thing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Like, Little Headspace, Look it Up, Michael and Vanny have a weird relationship, Protective Michael, after the epilogue, he sort of just regresses, helpy is lawful evil dont @ me, its a mental defense system, its non-sexual i swear, the mall exists i dunno, this is a wild fucking ride, watch me make up shit to justify my head canons, watch me pretend to understand how adoption works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloryasme/pseuds/gloryasme
Summary: Greg had been put off ever since Fetch had been brought back.Fetch hadn’t moved since he’d been returned.
Relationships: Greg/Manuel, Michael Afton & Greg (Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights), Michael Afton/Carlton Burke
Series: FNAF but in no particular order because the timeline doesn't exist [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970749
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

Greg had been put off ever since Fetch had been brought back. He honestly thought the dog was gone forever when he sold it off to someone online. It’d been returned later saying the guy who’d bought it died.

There wasn’t much investigation into the connection between Fetch and the death, but a detective had asked him questions about where he’d gotten it from. Again, the fact he’d broken into Fazbear’s went ignored.

Fetch hadn’t moved since he’d been returned.

The detective, Larson, mentioned something about the dog’s battery pack being used for something else and Greg hoped it kept Fetch off. But the ominous feeling of the animatronic dog resting still in his closet freaked him out.

On another note, Fazbear’s was open. A new building, a large mall with re-branded characters. Detective Larson had actually contacted the owner about Greg breaking into the old location which he apparently owned (makes sense, if he’s re-brand though, right?) but he didn’t care too much.

Greg won’t admit it, but he broke in again a bit after that, and the whole place had been stripped of life. Everything was gone, Greg assumed, to the new location. Perhaps it was worth it to take a visit.

He had a few hundred dollars of pocket money saved up. That should at least get some investigation into Fetch done by a mechanic there or something, right? He hoped so.

The place was large, and the music was loud. A bit of sensory overload but what else could Greg expect from an 80’s themed re-branding of Freddy Fazbear’s? The building designer must’ve been very eccentric.

There was a stage with four animatronics performing. A bear, a chicken, a wolf and a crocodile; all decorated in bright mismatched colours and strange patterns. The characters seemed strangely alive, with swift human movements and human-sounding voices singing, not some programmed voice lines.

Greg read up on the “people in costumes” method the old Fazbear locations, but he figured no one nowadays would take the spring lock risk. A good mechanic at work then, that’s promising.

There was sun and moon animatronics too, though they looked too creepy for Greg to find interesting enough to get close.

A woman was walking around in a rabbit suit. The suit looked hand sewn so the spring lock threat didn’t apply to her. The face of the costume was creepy, with large red eyes.

She was being tailed by two small robots. One all white and pink with bright blue eyes and pink circles on his cheeks. The other brown-furred with green eyes and a speaker on his chest. The white and pink one being dangerously shorter than the other.

Greg started there. He approached quickly before the woman, and the toys following her could disappear.

“Excuse me!” he called. The woman froze, and the two-animatronics turned to him, a little strange but whatever. “Uh, hi!”

“Do you need help?” the woman sounded young; her voice muffled by the suit. She plucked the pink and white bear off the group and shoved him into Greg’s arms. “Take him one’s enough for me to deal with.” And she quickly walked off. The brown bear stared at Greg a moment before chasing after her.

“Hello!” The pink and white bear greeted Greg, drawing his attention to it. “My name is Helpy, and my job is to provide help for anyone that needs it!”

Greg put it on the floor but stayed low to talk to it. It felt strange. (But really, what wasn’t strange about Freddy Fazbear’s?)

“My name is Greg.” He replied.

“What can I help you with, Greg?” Helpy asked -- like a customer service worker, only with actual enthusiasm.

“Well,” He slipped his bag off his back and opened it to show the animatronic dog that’d been weighing his bag down. “I need someone to help with this.”

“Oh my!” Helpy exclaimed. “Whatever happened to him? Poor thing.”

“I’m not really sure.” Greg lies. He wasn’t sure how the small bear would react to Greg saying he smashed it with a baseball bat.

Helpy seems to think to himself for a moment. “Well then, Greg! We should take Fetch here to the Boss. He should know what to do.”

“How did you know Fetch’s name? And Boss?” the questions came out before Greg could even try to stop it.

“Boss, the owner,” Helpy explains. “And my processors have information on all past and present animatronics connected to Fazbear Entertainment or Afton Robotics Inc.” Helpy chirped tugging on Greg’s pant leg to lead him away.

Greg was nervous, but zipped up his bag, stood up and followed Helpy. The small animatronic lead him to a ‘Staff Only’ door, blocked off by a man wearing the security uniform.

“Hiya Stanley,” Helpy said up at the man. The guard, Stanley, looked like was he was sleeping a second earlier.

“H-hi, Helpy.” He croaked, clearing his throat.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the job,” Helpy scolded. “Especially after what happened last time.” 

What the _hell_ happened last time?

Stanley coughed and shrugged. “So, what’cha need, little guy?”

“This is Greg,” his arm practically flung out to refer to him. “He’s got an animatronic in his bag that I think Michael would want to see.”

Stanley didn’t seem that interested in Greg, giving him a passing look to judge whether or not he was a threat. “Aight then,” and he pushed the door open.

“Thank you.” Helpy beamed. “And keep an eye on Vanny today. Alec and I were following her earlier, and she seems angry.”

So, the girl in the rabbit costume was Vanny, or the character, at least, and the other bear with the speaker was named Alec. What a strange name. It seemed so normal compared to _Helpy_.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stanley responds, holding the door open as Helpy and Greg pass. Greg follows behind Helpy nervous about getting lost in the hallways. It was surprisingly large, a maze of hallways. Greg didn’t see a single person walk past.

“Hey, Helpy.” Greg calls.

“Yes, Greg?”

“Those animatronics on stage--”

“The Glamrocks,” Helpy corrects. A little rude, but whatever.

“Yeah- they seem so… human.”

Helpy chuckles softly. “Yes, the Boss is very talented.”

“You said his name was Michael, earlier?”

“Yep! Michael! He’s great.”

Greg grimaced. “You certainly praise your boss a lot.” Was he programmed to do that?

“Henry made me for the sole purpose of helping Michael, so it makes sense.” Now, who the hell is--? “We’re here!”

Greg jolted at the sudden exclamation. Helpy was standing in front of a door labelled “Parts & Services”.

“Helpy, how on Earth are you supposed to open any of these doors? You’re a foot and a half tall.”

“Generally, I go through the vents.” Helpy chirps happily, reaching over his head to knock on the door.

“Huh,” Greg muttered, watching the door swing open.

‘This man looks too young to be born in the 80s,’ was Greg’s first thought. He looked to be in his early twenties; a few visible, pattern-like scars decorated the sides his neck.

“Hiya, Michael!” Helpy greeted. “Have you been drinking enough water since I last checked on you?”

“I’m not that bad at taking care of myself,” Michael muttered, his eyes flicking over to Greg. There was a curious glint in Michael’s eye, mixed with something Greg couldn’t put a name too. It scared him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Greg!” Helpy responds. “He has one of the old animatronics in his bag. It’s very badly damaged.”

“Oh, you’re the Fetch kid!” Michael exclaims. “Detective Larson spoke to me about you, the kid that broke into the old location.” He continued, ushering Greg into his workshop.

“Uh, yeah.”

“So, show us what happened to Fetch.” He says, tapping an empty table encouraging Greg to put his bag down. Greg didn’t know when he did it, but Helpy was standing on the table as well.

He put his bag down and pulled out the parts of Fetch he’d shoved in his bag. “I might be missing a few pieces.” He added.

“It’s okay, would’ve had to replace a few ‘nyways.” Michael shrugged, already delving into the pieces. From the wires to the motherboard, to other pieces of plastic Greg didn’t quite know the use of.

“I don’t have much money--”

“What?” Michael looked up, seeming confused. “Nah, it’s fine.” He waved Greg off as he turned back to the beaten-up endoskeleton and the fur costume around it. “I do this kinda stuff for fun I don’t really need to money.”

Greg figured he didn’t, considering he owned the entire building, but still. He felt guilty. He never _meant_ to steal Fetch; he wasn’t a thief! But how was he supposed to explain that to Michael?

“Kid,” Michae’s voice stunned him out of his thoughts. “Did anything weird happen with this robot? Larson told me it was in the use of some scientist guy named Phineas Taggert. They traced where he got Fetch from; you and spoke to me about it. So, I did a little digging of my own.”

Greg blinked. He _what_?

“I learned that a couple of weeks ago, while Fetch was technically under your possession, you were arrested for harassing a family about the girl--”

“Kimberly.”

“Right—being in danger and later she was found, dead, in your house. The only reason you weren’t arrested for murder being you were already at the police station during the time of death, and she was last seen with her family.” Michal clicks his tongue. “So, what happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Greg argued meekly. Michael stared at him. Greg felt pressured by something in his eyes. Like he was being threatened. “Fine.” He muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg finished his story, now sitting on the workbench. Michael had been working on Fetch throughout the entire story, patiently listening. He didn’t make commentary on the weird messages sent by Fetch, or what he did. He did seem a bit disturbed by someone else being in the building the second time Greg broke in with his friends, but he didn’t comment on it.

“I know it sounds weird, but--”

“It’s true?” Michael guessed. “I know, kiddo. I’ve been in this line of work for a long time.”

Greg hesitated. Some of the things he said didn’t even sound real to him, and his friends hardly believed what happened. Why did this stranger believe him without a doubt?

“If I may ask,” He started, nervously wringing his fingers. “Why did you believe me so easily? My friends didn’t, and they saw the messages.”

“How much research did you do into Freddy Fazbear’s?” Michael responds. “Because if you’re asking that question, you weren’t doing the right research.”

Greg opened his mouth to speak, but Michael continued. “There’s a computer over there somewhere,” he gestured behind him with a tool he’d gotten from somewhere. “If you want to look it up from there. Or you can leave. Do you want Fetch back after this?”

Greg considered it. He didn’t want Fetch back in his house, but he did want answers. Would Fetch return to Greg if he gets powered on again? Would everything happen again? Greg wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore. “Uh, I want him back,” Greg said. He didn’t even actually own Fetch. The robotic dog came to him.

“Alright.” Michael steps back and stretches. Greg grimaces at the popping sound in his back. “Give me your phone number I’ll text ya when I finish.”

“Uh- right.” Greg just handed his phone over to Michael he got it back a second later with a new contact.

The Mechanic

So, Michael had a sense of humour, then. That’s fair.

Greg texted the number and Michael dug his phone out of his pocket to show off the unknown number.

“I might give Helpy your number too,” Michael adds as Greg goes to step out the door. “I tend to forget things.”

“Uh, sure.” Greg didn’t know how the one-foot tall bear would even hold a phone (or if it was in his processors like Fetch), but he wasn’t too keen on finding out. He was alone in the hallway when he realised; he didn’t know his way back into the mall.

“Hiya, Greg!” Helpy himself popped out of a vent next to the door. Greg hadn’t realised it was there earlier, but it did make sense considering Helpy said he used the vents before. “Let’s get you out and home safe.”

“You’re not following me home,” Greg said, unsure if that was a demand or a not.

Helpy laughed. “No, no, of course not! I’ve got to check back in with Alec and Vanny. But I can escort you back to the mall entrance. Unless you want to stick around and enjoy the entertainment, I mean.”

“It’s okay,” Greg responded warily. Helpy seemed to be in a forever gleeful state as he leads Greg back to the mall entrance, passing Stanley at the ‘Staff Only’ door once again.

* * *

“He didn’t want you to pay?” Hadi asked through the phone. “I dunno, man, that seems strange.”

“What if he’s a paedophile?” Cyril adds. “I mean, he does work in child entertainment.”

“Oh, my god, that does not mean he’s a paedophile.” Hadi snapped at him. “It’s a fair enough assumption, though.”

“I don’t think so,” Greg replied. “He doesn’t really seem like he likes kids at all. In general, I mean. Like, his workshop – parts and service, I guess – is literally hidden away behind a door and a few too many hallways.”

“So, what- it’s like a maze or something?” Hadi asked. “Look, man, that whole place is suspicious.”

“Yeah, I know!” Greg exclaimed. “He said to me that if I didn’t understand why he believes my story, then I hadn’t done proper research on the franchise. What the hell does that mean?!”

“Hold up. I’ll look it up now,” Cyril replied.

“What were you searching?” Hadi asked.

“Just the animatronics, how they worked,” Greg answered.

“Nerd,” Hadi commented.

“Oh, god.” Cyril’s voice cut in.

“What?” Greg and Hadi asked at the same time, despite Hadi being in the same room as Cyril.

“So, back in the eighties, a ton of kids died at the old locations.” Cyril summarised. “Then a heap of ghost stories about the kids haunting the animatronics surfaced when the nightguards kept dying on the job.”

“Do they know how the kids died?” Greg asked.

“One of the owners killed them. His name here is William Afton.”

“Get this!” Hadi added. “They thought it was the other owner, Henry Emily, but they had no proof of it. So, no one was ever actually arrested for it.”

“How’d they know it was Afton, then?”

“He re-appeared later having kidnapped a teenager that went unnamed. The kid got out fine, but the suit malfunctioned, and he died.”

“Jesus,” Greg muttered.

“They had kids.” Cyril continued. “Maybe we could track the family line down. How old would their kids be nowadays?”

“Fifties, forties?” Hadi guessed. “Somewhere around that.”

“Afton had three kids. Michael and Elizabeth. Says here they couldn’t figure out the name of his third kid on his gravestone.”

“…The mechanic.” Greg whimpered. “His name was Michael.”

There was a pause on the other line. “Didn’t you say Michael was like… twenty, though?” Hadi asked. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Greg wasn’t so sure.

“Emily had twins.” Cyril continued. “A girl named Charlotte and a boy named Samuel, both went by nicknames.”

“Charlie and Sammy, respectively.” Hadi cut in.

“Yeah, and apparently one was kidnapped and murdered by Afton. There’s some debate as to which one, though. Most people think it was Sammy.”

“Huh,” Greg said because he didn’t have anything else to say.

“Oh, wow,” Cyril added quietly.

“What?” Greg asked.

“This all happened years ago, but there’s still an active online forum debating what happened.”

“Oh, it’s probably because of the re-branding,” Hadi said.

Greg blinked. “Could you guys look into the owner of the mall? I think there’s something off about Michael.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hadi replied. The line went quiet a moment, and Greg quickly checked the road before crossing to get to his house.

“So, there’s nothing too out of the ordinary,” Hadi said.

“Yeah, normal life, graduated college with a degree in mechanics.”

“Gay,” Hadi said. “Probably, I mean, he’s married to a guy.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be bi.”

“Or pan,” Greg added.

“Or poly, I know, shut up, his sexuality isn’t important.” Hadi hissed. “Has a sister who’s also married. Born in Utah, went to college in Ohio, seems like a normal guy. No criminal charges.”

“His parents aren’t listed,” Cyril added.

“Maybe he was in a foster home?” Greg guessed.

“If he were, they’d probably be listed.” Hadi reasoned. “That’s the weird thing. It’s like he just spawned in at twenty. No records of his childhood or anything. There must’ve been something because it says he’s been married to his husband since twenty fifteen.”

“Seven years, that’s pretty cool,” Cyril says quietly. “Imagine having a relationship that stable.”

“Okay- just because you can’t keep a girlfriend for two months--”

“Hey!”

“Guys!” Greg yelled.

“Sorry,” Hadi replied automatically. “But uh, hey! It does mention Michael having a partner.”

“A partner?” Greg echoed.

“Yeah, a guy named Mason Scollfyld, apparently he co-owns Fazbear Entertainment with Michael.”

“I kinda thought he’d co-own with his husband,” Cyril muttered.

“Why?”

“I dunno. It’s a family restaurant--”

“They don’t have kids.”

Greg pulled the phone away from his ear and listened closely. He was home alone, he thought. He could hear a faint movement in the house. Dad must be home.

“Guys, I gotta go,” Greg says, returning the device to his ear.

“Alright, we’ll text you what we find,” Hadi replied.

“Seeya, Greg.”

“Bye.”

He tossed his phone onto his bed and slid onto the floor, pulling out books and papers from his bag, making it look like he’d been semi-productive. He decided he may as well get his homework done.

...He hoped Mum would be home soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg clicked on the link Hadi sent him. It was some Discord server link about people talking about the past Fazbear locations.

There was a warm welcome to the chat, and Greg went through the tins of groups. Rules, theories, stories, announcements and whatnot. Nothing too out of the ordinary. He hesitated over the ‘stories’ category though, reading the rules of the chat.

People can share their own stories of their experiences at Fazbears. Most in the chat were just the animatronics acting weird when they were at the old locations as kids, or the horror attraction, or seeing something in the VR games (which Greg didn’t actually know existed).

After an internal debate, Greg typed his story and sent it to the chat. It took a bit, considering the 2000-character limit. But he did. He wasn’t sure what he was going to get out of it. Maybe closure. There were a few different reactions.

In a separate chat used for discussing those stories (as not to lose them in the wave of reactions) people debated what they thought happened. From a ghost possessing the dog to the dog being coded to kill things, to it just being a glitch in its code. Lots of them asked questions, which Greg answered best he could. Some people gave condolences of Kimberly, which was nice. No one called it a lie though, which he was grateful for.

Greg also added in that chat, what he did after. Sending Fetch to the mall with Michael.

That also got a varying reaction. Some people theorised he was Michael Afton, taking after his father, and un front asked if Michael had threatened him in any way. Other people debunked that theory the same way Greg and his friends had, saying that if Michael was the eldest Afton boy, he’d be in his fifties at this point.

Greg did say how he felt about it, and the weird characters he’d met like Stanley and Helpy. That’s when Greg had a thought.

Helpy had said he was built by someone named _Henry_ , to help Michael. And the original co-owner was named Henry. He told the chat as such and let them stew on it. It sparked a theory that Henry had a third child, but no one seemed to understand it.

Someone made a joke about Buzzfeed Unsolved doing an episode based off of it. Greg didn’t think that was plausible. They already knew who the killer was, and he was dead, so they’d have no reason to create an episode about it.

He bid the few online ‘goodbye’ as he left the house for school that day. His conversation continued with them as Hadi attempted to create a proper timeline of events. He’d gotten the dates from the gravestones of three members of the Afton family (the wife and two younger children), the dates in the newspapers about the murdered children and the opening and closing dates of each location.

Cyril and Hadi also tagged along to the mall. Michael hadn’t called or texted anything, but the two wanted to check it out as soon as they could.

Hadi grimaced at the screaming kids running around. “You said Helpy was a foot and a half tall? How’s the poor thing meant to get around amongst all this?”

“Vents, I guess.” Greg shrugged. “C’mon.”

He made his way toward the Staff Only door. He paused halfway when the door opened. Michael stepped out, talking to Stanley and another man.

“Why the fuck do they all have scars on their faces?” Cyril hissed in his ear.

Greg mustn’t have noticed it before. Stanley had a long scar reaching from the corner of his mouth to halfway to his ear. The new guy had a scar from the middle of his cheek down to his jawline. The entire left side of Michael’s face was hidden under his hair, but if you looked closely, you could see the scar stretching across his nose and down past his mouth.

“I don’t know.” Greg hissed back.

“On, hello.” The trio flinched back, and their eyes shot to the ground, where a small white and pink bear stood staring at them. “You’ve bought friends, Greg.”

“H-hey, Helpy.” He greeted back.

“Are you here for Fetch, or just to have fun? I noticed you staring.” Helpy says. “I can introduce you.”

“Wait, no--”

But the small animatronic did not listen as it called over to Michael and Stanley. Both approached, causing the other man to follow.

“Hi, Greg, boys.” Michael greeted. “What brings you here?”

“Just checking the place out,” Greg replied. “Wanted to check up on Fetch.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, that’s alright.”

“You boys are about the same age as my son.” The unnamed man comments.

“Aaron?” Stanley guessed.

“He should be around here somewhere,” the guy continues, ignoring him. “Oh, the name’s Bob, by the way.” He holds out his hand.

Hadi is the one to step forward and shake it. “I’m Hadi - this is Cyril. The other two have met Greg.”

“If you don’t mind,” Cyril added, gesturing to his own cheek. “Where’d you get this?”

Bob chuckled. “Nothing bad, boys. Just a scuffle on the football field when I was a teenager.”

“At least you didn’t almost die,” Stanley muttered, his fingers grazing against the scar on his mouth.

“You’re the one who decided to touch my things,” Michael says. “That’s your own fault.”

“I know but still.” Stanley’s hand travels up to his shirt and rests there. “That makes two near-death experiences.”

“Don’t fall asleep on the job.” Michael and Bob scold simultaneously.

Greg blinked. What the hell happened last time?

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” Bob said, pulling his arms behind his head.

“Do you need help rounding up your children?” Stanley asked, looking like he dreaded the process.

“Tyler can drive home, and Aaron’s going home with a friend after this, so I just need Cindy.”

Stanley gave a defeated sigh and followed Bob into the mess of screaming children.

“You boys wanted to see Fetch, yeah?” Michael asked. Greg, whose eyes had been following Stanley and Bob, snapped back to Michael, who now had Helpy sitting on his shoulder. Greg also noticed how tall Michael was.

“Yeah,” Hadi answered, though he didn’t sound so sure.

Michael gestured towards the Staff Only door and pushed it open. He let the boys pass in front of him and then took the lead, taking them down the same twists and turns Greg had done the day before.

“How is anyone supposed to navigate in here?” Cyril asked.

“Well, this area has my workshop slash office.”

“Is that why there’s a computer in there?” Greg asked.

Michael laughed. “Yeah. And the security office is around here as well. The reason it’s such a maze behind here is to confuse some of the animatronics.”

“We’ve heard some of the old ones move around at night,” Hadi says, eyeing Michael warily.

“Yeah, and because the animatronics aren’t supposed to be around here.” Michael shrugged. “But if they do, they pose a threat to whoever’s on guard during the night. If they get confused, they can’t find the office, and the guard is safe.”

Hadi wanted to ask more questions, but Greg clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t!” He hissed in his ear.

“Okay, jeez,” Hadi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I was just asking.”

“Here we are.” 

Michael announced, pushing the parts and service door open and stepping inside. Apparently, Cyril was more observant than Greg because he pointed out the vent before they entered. And another on the table where Helpy was now.

‘So that’s how he got there before…’ Greg thought.

For what a day’s work of work was worth, Fetch looked surprisingly good. The endoskeleton was missing all of the actual plastic, and faux fur that made it a dog and what remained was cables and wires. It honestly looked creepier then Fetch usually did.

“Whoa.” Cyril vocalised.

“Yeah, it’s not pretty, but it’s good enough.” Michael chuckles. “I’ve got someone remaking the costume part for me while I deal with the technical stuff.”

“So, aside from being beaten up, what exactly was wrong with Fetch?” Cyril asked.

“Yeah.” Hadi agreed. “Why was he so violent?”

“Depends on what you believe, I guess.” Michael shrugged. He started to mess with some of the pieces. “I’ve turned him on and all that. He seems to work how he was supposed to back in the day.”

“So, if we were to say we though Fetch was possessed?” Greg asked, earning himself and “what the hell?” look from his friends.

“Then that spirit is gone,” Michael replied, without questioning the question at all. “He was missing his battery pact when he came in so if there was a ghost, they were attached to that.”

Michael seems to pause. He must’ve thought of something because he disappears into the piles of machinery and boxes of spare parts.

“… Do you think he’s gonna kill us?” Cyril asks.

Hadi ponders on it. “Nah.”

Greg stepped up to the bench and inspected Fetch.

“D’ya think you’d want him back?” Cyril asked.

“…maybe,” Greg replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would Michael kidnap a child?

Hadi and Cyril left when their parents texted them to come home. ~~Greg sometimes wished his parents did the same.~~

Michael didn’t seem to mind his presence though, happily responding to the questions Greg asked about. Greg himself went on little tangents about REGs and his plants (which Michael laughed at and said he did a fair bit of gardening as a teenager. It wasn’t the same thing, but it was close enough).

Helpy, who’d disappeared to do whatever his job was at some point, re-appeared through the vent on the table. (Were there ladders in the vents he climbed? The idea made Greg chuckle.) “Time to pack up,” Helpy said. “It’s late.”

“Is it?” Michael asked, tugging his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, shit.” He looked at Greg. “You need a ride, kiddo?”

Greg hesitated, pulling his phone out to gauge the time for himself. 12:38 am. Oh, _fuck_. Dad was gonna kill him. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

Michael ushered him into the back-parking lot and unlocked his car. Greg slipped into the passenger seat with Michael driving, obviously. (Greg didn’t mention the body shaped sheet lying in the backseat, but it did make his nerves kick in.)

“Where’s your house?” Michael asked.

“Uh, turn that way,” Greg instructed, and Michael followed his instructions. It was relieving, slightly, but that sheet in the back didn’t make Greg feel good about anything.

“That’s not a person,” Michael says as if reading his mind. “You can check it if you want. It’s one of my side projects.”

Greg took the permission and leant around the car seat, pulling off the sheet. True to Michael’s word, it was just a bunch of mechanical parts placed to look like a person. “Why’d you arrange it like that?” Greg asked.

“So people would avoid trying to steal my car,” Michael responded. “They won’t take something with a person in it.” Greg hummed.

“So, what’s home like?” Michael continued. “Because my Father would whoop my ass for being home this late.”

_ “Father” is a strange word to use,  _ Greg thought. “My Dad just might.” He answered. “He’s always been a prick.”

“I’m sure he’s just worried,” Michael said, though there was a distant look in his eye.

“Sometimes, I think my Dad would rather disown me. He sure threatens to act on it.”

“What stops him?” Michael asked.

“I dunno.” Greg shrugged. “But there’s always been something of. Like he blames me for something. That’s why I liked my Uncle more.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s your Uncle’s name?”

“Darrin, I call him Dare.”

“Makes sense.”

Greg found himself talking about Dare’s business, and how the man was a free spirit. He spoke about Dare’s lucky finger, and what Fetch did to him.

Michael grimaces slightly. “Well, I mean, he’s a got a story to tell about how he lost it, then, huh?” he said, trying to make Greg feel better.

“I guess?” Greg muttered. “But I feel guilty. Like, if only I hadn’t wished that. Fetch wouldn’t have gone after him.”

“No point lingering in the past,” Michael says. “Just focus on moving forward.”

“Yeah, but--”

“No buts.” Michael cut in. “It’s easy to lose yourself in the past, in hypotheticals or best-case scenarios. You just have to buckle down and look forward.”

Greg huffs. “You sound like you have experience.”

“I do. Everyone has hardships, Greg.”

He scoffed. “Have you ever accidentally killed anyone?”

It was meant to be a sarcastic question. He didn’t expect a response. “Yes.”

Greg froze up, suddenly feeling awkward. Well, if he hadn’t pissed off Michael before, he had to’ve now. He risked a glance at the drivers face. Michael looked just as relaxed as when the conversation started. His hands though, Greg noticed, were gripping tightly on the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” Greg muttered.

“‘s okay, kid.”

“If you don’t mind, who was it? Did you know them?” Greg asked. “Kimberly was the girl I had a crush on. We had an assignment together, and I wanted her to come over to help with it, so I texted her. Then I realised what danger she might be in, with Fetch around.”

Michael hummed. “It was my younger brother’s birthday.” Greg was already pale. “My friends and I wanted to play a prank on him. So we picked it up and got real close to one of the animatronics.”

“It was in one of the Fazbear locations?”

“Yup. We put his head in the mouth of the thing, and it crushed his skull.” Michael breathed slowly. “He was in the hospital for a week before we pulled the plug.”

“Oh.” Greg cringed at himself. ‘Say more than that! His brother died!’ He scolded himself. “I’m sorry.”

If he could curl up in a hole and die, he would. “You didn’t know.” Michael shrugged. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”

Greg peered out the window. “Oh, just there. That one.” He pointed towards his house.

Michael pulled his car into the driveway and stopped to let Greg out. A light in the house flickered on, and Greg cursed.

“Looks like your Dad’s up,” Michael comments idly. “Want me to walk you up?”

Greg was old enough to walk alone. And yet, Michael was already by his side and knocking on the door. Greg had his keys, but with that light on there was no way he’d get past his Dad.

“Did you forget your--” Greg’s Dad paused, seeing Michael standing beside his son. “What did he do?”

So, he assumed Greg got in trouble, again?

“Decided to drop him off,” Michael replied, patting Greg’s back. “Sorry for keeping him out so late. Time just flies, y’ know?” he holds his hand out. “My name’s Michael Burke, and you are?”

Dad blinked. “Steven Lowe.” He shook Michael’s hand. “What do you do, exactly?”

“I work with machinery and programming. I’m an engineer at the new mall that opened up.” Michael explained, ushering Greg into the house as Greg’s father invited him in. “Greg here’s been telling me about REGs. He’s a smart boy, that one.”

“He’s a boy after his mother, that’s for sure.” Dad scoffed. “Tea?”

“Oh, sure, thank you,” Michael replies. Dad goes into the kitchen as Michael nudges Greg into the hallway. Easy access to his room. Michael was distracting his father. “So what do you do, Steven?”

Greg tossed his bag onto his bedroom floor. He didn’t know how to feel about Michael. On one hand, his entire aura radiated THREATENING. On the other hand, he had been nothing but nice to Greg. He huffed.

There was no way of avoiding his father’s wrath. He’d be getting it after Michael left, whether or not Greg went to bed now. He stumbled down the stairs and slipped into the remaining chair at the kitchen table, Dad and Michael talking animatedly about something Greg wasn’t listening too.

Michael nudged him, and he looked up. “Pardon?”

Dad looked annoyed, but Michael just laughed. “The mall is starting an internship, I asked if you want to join us there.”

“You want me to be an intern?” Greg asked.

He’d met Michael once before, and _sure_ that’d spoken easy enough for hours, but he still wasn’t sure about him. _Something_ was off, and Greg couldn’t put a name to it. On the alternative, Greg would just come home to his Dad. That’s a hard no.

“Of course!” Michael replied. “We need some young minds.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael seems happy at this outcome. “Awesome, now I need the bathroom.”

“Down the hall, third door on the right.” Dad directed.

“Thanks.” Michael stood and disappeared down the hall.

Dad scoffed, and Greg turned to him. “What?”

“I don’t like him.” Steven decides. “But he’s ridding me of your presence for a few more hours so, there’s that.”

“You could’ve just told me to stay out more.” Greg hissed.

Dad leaned over the table and grabbed his jaw, forcing Greg to look at him. “Do not speak back to me, you ungrateful brat.” He spat. “This internship means _nothing_. You will never amount to anything worthy in my eyes so, stop trying. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I think--” Steven reeled back, and Greg stared wide-eyed at Michael. “--that the only person making a fool of themselves is you.” Michael grabbed Greg by the shoulder and tugged him out of his chair. “I also think, that this fourteen-year-old should not be involved with your toxic attitude, so if you don’t mind me.”

He led Greg to the door and pushed him out. “We’ll be on our way.”

“That’s kidnapping.” Steven hollered from the doorway.

Michael holds out his phone with a recording of their conversation playing. “I’m sure the police would _love_ to hear what you have to say about this~” he mocked.

“You’re blackmailing me?” Steven asked.

“I can do much more than that, I’m afraid.” Michael smiled menacingly at Greg’s father. The feeling of unease about Michael grew ten times more, and Greg paled.

“I’ll keep in touch.” Michael cooed, pushing Greg into the passenger seat.

He got in and drove away quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answer; Yes


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look, i don't know how long this is going to be

“Sorry about that,” Michael speaks first. He sounds a lot calmer; which Greg is grateful for. “Guess I was wrong about your Dad.”

“Yeah,” Greg says. He’s not sure what else to say.

“I can take you home in the morning. You’ve got school soon, yeah?”

“Tomorrow.”

“It’s one in the morning. It is tomorrow.”

“Then, yeah.”

“So, I’ll take you home at about six-ish. And then you’ll go to school.” Michael taps the steering wheel a couple of times. “You don’t have to deal with that shit at home, y’ know. You can go to the police.”

“If I go to the police, they’ll take my Mum away too.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Dad said.” Greg shrugged.

“That’s… not how the system works,” Michael replied.

“Dad told me that they’d done something bad,” Greg said. “I’m not sure what but they could both get arrested for it.”

Michael frowned. “That’s mean there’s still evidence in the house of it,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t make sense if it’s just an investigation in the Dad of domestic abuse.”

“Where would I even go?” Greg asked.

“Foster care, I guess?” Michael shrugged. “Unless a relative was willing to take you in. What about that Uncle you were telling me about?”

Greg pondered on it. “I love Dare ‘n all, but I just feel really bad about what happened with Fetch. And I don’t really want to leave my friends behind.” He clicked his tongue. “And I don’t really want to go into foster care. Most of the people just do that for the money they get.”

“So, what, then?” Michael asked.

“Can we just… not go to the police?” Greg offered.

“No can-do, kiddo.”

Greg swore. Michael chuckled.

Greg leaned into the car seat and stared out the window at the stars. He mumbled something.

“What was that?” Michael asked.

“What if you took me in?” Greg repeated, louder. “I mean, I’d still be around my friends and I wouldn’t be in foster care.”

“Uh- I don’t- I dunno, kid,” Michael replied. “I’d have to talk to my husband about that. And he’d probably be sleeping by the time we leave tomorrow morning.”

“That’s fine,” Greg says quietly. “It was just a possibility.”

Michael pulls his car into his driveway, and Greg is more than a little confused by the lights still on in the house.

“That means your husbands up, yeah?” Greg asks.

“It means I’m in trouble,” Michael replies, and Greg can’t help but laugh at the idea of it.

Greg saw Michael’s husband sitting in the kitchen, nursing a mug in his hands. He didn’t look happy. ~~He remembers, now, that he never asked what his name was~~.

“My room is second on the left, grab some clothes out of the closet and there’s an en suite in there, have a shower,” Michael whispered to him.

Greg nodded and did as told. He found a pair of sweatpants, a simple grey t-shirt and stole a pair of boxers that they weren’t going to talk about. He stepped into the bathroom and checked the cupboards under the sink. There were towels in there. Good. He made sure the door was locked before turning the shower on.

* * *

“Hey, love.” Michael greeted. “Why are you still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Carlton replied, only now looking up at him. “Who’d you bring home with you this time?”

“A kid, his name is Greg,” Michael says, slipping into the opposite Carlton. “I was gonna take him home, but his Dad wasn’t so great.”

“Michael, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad--”

“Kid’s got a broken nose, love.” Michael interrupted. “He’s got a fucking _band-aid_ on it. And no one said anything. God, he’s covered in bruises. I didn’t think it was that bad either until I met the guy. And Greg told me his parent did something that was illegal. If we go to the police, they might both get arrested for something.”

Carlton blinked at him. “So, you’ve kidnapped a child? What’s stopping them from calling the police?”

“This recording I have.” Michael slid his phone over the table. Carlton looked at his and sighed, cursing under his breath.

“So, what’re you going to do, Michael? Put him in foster care?”

“I spoke with the kid about it,” Michael replied. “He wanted to stay with me.”

Carlton sat up straighter. “I’m sorry?”

Michael shrugged. “He’s a good kid, love. And- I don’t know.”

“Michael, how long have you even known him?” Carlton asked.

“A day to two?”

The ginger sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s too late for this conversation.”

“Then go to bed,” Michael replies. “I’m gonna take the kid home at six. And we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Carlton huffs through his nose. “Fine, Michael, but you owe me.” He stood up and stared into his mug. “Want the rest of my hot chocolate?”

“Sure.” He walked around the table and pressed a kiss to Michael’s temple as he handed over the mug.

* * *

Greg was staring at his reflection. The water had gotten rid of most of the make-up he was covered in, and the too-big shirt didn’t do him any favours. He’d (guiltily) searched through the draws, cupboards and medicine cabinet to find any make-up. (He didn’t know why he thought two men owned any make-up between them, maybe one of them was into cosplay. He wasn’t going to judge.) all he found was an excessive number of bandages, disinfectant and a concerning amount of pill bottles.

Sleeping pills, anti-depressants, anxiety medication and antipsychotics to name a few.

He froze at the knock on the door. “Uh, yeah?” Was that Michael?

“Hey.” No, it was not. “Michael told me your name was Greg, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Greg replied, taking this opportunity. “And yours is?”

“Carlton.” He replied. “Can you grab something from the medicine cabinet for me? It’s behind the mirror.”

“Yeah, sure.” Greg pretends he hadn’t been spooning just a second ago. “What do you need?”

“A pill bottle with Doxepin on it.” Greg grabbed the bottle and risked opening the door a bit to hand it to him.

“Thanks,” Carlton said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Greg replied.

“You’re not.” Carlton asserted. “I’m not an idiot. I can see the mirror.”

Greg sighed and opened the door. Carlton gave him a worried look, the real thing looking worse than the reflection and took hold of the door so Greg couldn’t close it again. “Michael! It’s a bit worse than you said.”

Greg panicked but found Carlton a surprising amount stronger than him. The door didn’t even budge at his instinct to close it before Michael could see. Michael appeared in the room with a mug, in a slow, expecting pace. He grimaced at the bruises revealed now that the foundation was gone.

“Jesus kid, he sure did a number on you.” He muttered. A hand reached out to gently graze the purple and yellow handprint around Greg’s neck. “That looks really bad.”

“It wasn’t always like this.” He said. “It got worse after what happened to Kimberly.”

Carlton looked confused but figured this wasn’t the time to ask. Michael swore, and looked like he was deep in thought for a minute.

“This is fine.” He said. It was not fine. “We have a spare room I set up for you, you can sleep in there.” Where they just going to ignore this? “C’mon.” Michael placed a hand on Greg’s back and led him to the spare room.

“I’ll wake you up when I take you home,” Michael says. Greg nods, he feels like a small child being tucked into bed, and he really doesn’t want Michael to leave. Michael gives one last look at the bruise on Greg’s neck before closing the door behind him.

Greg’s sleep is invaded by flashes of his father, the neighbour’s dog, Fetch and Kimberly, as it usually was. He’d fallen asleep at some point, but apparently, his subconscious didn’t want him to sleep. He’d shot up in a cold sweat. He thought about asking Michael or Carlton about that sleeping medication he’d seen in the medicine cabinet.

Greg slipped from the bedsheets and opened his bedroom door, the house was dark and quiet. 

Michael and Carlton must still be sleeping.

He wondered if they’d be angry about him snooping through their house. They’d mostly been understanding the whole time, so he doubted they’d be too visible about it if they were. Pity overshadows anger, it seems.

Greg’s first goal here was to find a clock, and he had his phone on him, so he pulled it out. Low battery, but it was working so he could deal. It was 3:04 am.

He felt like a small child still. It was a strange, alienating feeling. Like the adults knew everything and could protect him from everything. But Greg knew better not all adults were to be trusted. So far, Michael and his husband had proved to be trustworthy.

Greg’s stomach growled; he’d missed dinner. How he hadn’t noticed earlier was up for debate. He padded his way through the dark house using the flashlight on his phone for light. He found his way awkwardly into the kitchen and opened the fridge first.

Left-over food was piled in Tupperware containers, a few labelled with ‘lunch’ or a few hearts. He didn’t understand how any couple who was together as long Michael and Carlton must’ve been could still be so lovey-dovey. Maybe Greg was just biased because of his own parents.

He grabbed one that wasn’t labelled and went over to the microwave to heat it up. He was waiting for the countdown to get to 1. (He wasn’t going to let the beeping wake up Michael and Carlton.) He got it just as the number changed and pulled it out, mixing around the food with a fork he’d stolen from the cutlery draw.

He sat alone, in the dark, on the couch with a pillow in his lap to half the steaming Tupperware. His entire body froze when he heard movement around the house. He hoped he hadn’t disturbed anyone. The living room light flicked on, and he made eye contact with Michael.

“Jesus Christ kid, you gave me a heart attack.” He swore, dragging a hand through his hair. Greg got a momentary glimpse of the scar his bangs usually covered. “What’re you doing up this late for anyway?”

Greg lifts the container in explanation. “Ah, I did forget to feed you, didn’t I? Whoops.”

Greg swallows back the mouthful of food already in his mouth. “Did I wake you?” He asked.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Michael replied. “I don’t really sleep that often; I don’t need it.” He added at the growing concerned look Greg was giving him. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Well sorry anyways,” Greg muttered. “For not asking,” he added, gesturing to the food.

“Oh, it’s okay. We probably have too much between the two of us anyway.” Michael shrugged. He plopped down onto the couch beside Greg. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” He shrugged. “But, like, I can’t sleep. All I see is just a mesh of the past few weeks.”

“You feel guilty for something you really couldn’t control,” Michael says. He looked like he was analysing Greg’s entire being. “It could’ve been avoided, I suppose, but now you just have to deal with it.”

Greg hummed his agreement, finishing off the food. Michael leaned over and took the plastic container from his pillow-plate and dropped it in the sink, briefly spraying it with water.

“Come on, back to bed.” He ushered. “Don’t want to be too exhausted for school.”

Greg groaned slightly, but let Michael lead him back to his room. He lingered there for a moment before tilting his head up to look at Michael. “I don’t want to be alone.” He said, barely a whisper. Michael seemed to understand through.

After a short second of internal debate, Michael sighed. “You want me to sleep with you?”

Greg nods, feeling more and more like a small child. “Please?”

Michael frowns like he’d said something odd. “Alright, come on.”

Michael seemed adamant about having their own personal space, but Greg took the opportunity to lay close, maybe-maybe not stealing Michael’s body heat. Michael just sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlton: Michael, you can't adopt a child you've known a day  
> Also Carlton: *has known Greg for 10 minutes* I'm his father now


	6. Chapter 6

Greg awoke in the morning to someone shaking him. It took his mind a little while to catch up to his body.

He was in a moving car. Michael was driving, one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road and his other hand on Greg’s shoulder. He was still wearing Michael’s clothes. There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“What?” Greg muttered, instinctively stretching out, only to be blocked by the closed-in surroundings of the car.

“We’re almost to your house,” Michael tells him.

“Oh.” Greg sits up and adjusts the seat to his size. “What’re you going to do?”

“Depends,” Michael replied. “Is your mother home?”

“Should be.”

“I’ll talk to her about the internship.”

“That was real?” Greg asked.

“Yep.” Michael chuckles slightly, though Greg couldn’t tell what amused him. “Might do some snooping around your house. Get evidence of domestic abuse to make a case.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal,” Greg commented.

“I’m not breaking in.” Michael countered. Greg gave a half-nod.

Michael, once again, knocked on the front door, this time greeted by Greg’s mother. Greg himself shoved past her and straight to her room to steal a fair bit more of her foundation and concealer.

He got dressed, grabbed his bag (, shoved his phone charger in it to charge his phone in school somewhere) and stepped out back to the kitchen.

Michael had successfully made friends with Greg’s mom and was chatting away with her at the kitchen table. Something told Greg his mother was oblivious to what was going on.

“Bye.” He called.

“Seeya later,” Michael replied.

“Have a good day at school!” His mother chorused.

Greg figured today wasn’t so bad.

* * *

He went to the mall again after, accompanied by his usual friends with the addition of Manuel.

Greg didn’t tell them too much about his family, but he did mention the internship position Michael offered.

“I’ve heard of it.” Manuel offered. “I don’t think it’s meant to be passed out to teenagers though. He must like you.”

“I still think he’s a paedophile.” Cyril comments. “I mean, that’s just conditioning, right? Getting you to like and trust him.”

“I met his husband.” Greg deadpans.

“They might  _ both  _ be--”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Hadi snapped, clamping a hand over Cyril’s mouth. “He has no bad intentions what-so-ever unless proven so. Okay? Innocent until proven guilty.” 

“Fine.” Cyril scoffed.

“I mean, he sounds okay to me.” Manuel offers. “Everyone has their secrets as long as it’s not illegal or harmful it's fine.”

“How do we know it’s  _ not _ though?”

“Oh, my god, shut up.”

Cyril huffed. “Hey, are we actually going to play any of the arcade games or are we gonna be in parts and service the whole time, again?”

“I dunno man, that actually sounds pretty cool,” Manuel replies. “All those spare pieces. I wonder if he’d let us play with them. See what we can make?”

“Play?” Hadi echoed. “And I guess so. Why didn’t was ask before?”

“Because of Fetch?” Cyril guessed.

“Who- what?” Manuel asked. The other three boys paused, realising he hadn’t been there for any of it.

“Y’know the old Fazbear location?” Greg asked. “It was in some other place around here?”

“Yeah?”

“So, basically.” Hadi continued. “We broke in.”

“ _ Wow _ .”

“And Greg decided to fuck with a robot dog we found; Fetch,” Cyril added. “And the damn thing connected to his phone.”

“So now we’re getting it looked at because whatever I did, it should not have given Fetch my phone number.” Greg finished.

Manuel hummed. “Spooky.”

They entered the mall. “I’m not even sure if Michael is here right now,” Greg muttered.

“To the arcade!” Cyril decrees, dragging Greg and Hadi by the arms, Manuel following. 

The quartet of boys played for a few hours before bumping into the white and pink bear again. Greg was starting to think it wasn’t a coincidence.

“You just keep multiplying!” Helpy exclaimed. “What’s your name?”

“Manuel,” he replies.

“Well, bienvenido, Manuel. It’s nice of you to visit!”

“Gracias, Helpy.”

“No worries! Are you boys here to see Michael again?” the bear asked.

“Yes, actually,” Greg replied. “Is he here?”

“I’m afraid not,” Helpy replied. “He’s currently talking to the police. Carlton is here, however, and so is the co-owner.”

“Who’s the co-owner?” Manuel whispered, but Helpy heard anyways.

“His name is Mason Scollfyld. He shouldn’t be too interested in your affairs though. He’s more interested in the animatronics than the people.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Manuel asked. “Look at them, they’re amazing.” He gestured towards the four performing on stage.

‘Glamrocks’ Greg thought, remembering his first conversation with Helpy. Two, Freddy and Chica, were based on the original four he remembers seeing when they broke into the old location. The other two, Roxanne and Montgomery were original characters, as far as Greg knew.

“Did you know-” Helpy starts “That the original owner of Fazbear Entertainment, William Afton, did, in fact, create a wolf animatronic?”

“He did?” Hadi asked.

“He was never given a proper name.” Helpy comments. “But Michael likes to call it Twisted.”

“I wonder what it was made for,” Cyril grumbled darkly.

“To hunt,” Helpy answered unhelpfully. “As most wolves are.”

“So, what about her?” Greg asked, nodding towards Roxanne.

“She’s friendly, built to protect, actually. Michael built all of those animatronics with ensured safety in mind, so nothing like the past could happen again.”

“Even the creepy looking moon bastard over there?” Hadi asked, directing their attention towards the moon-jester animatronic.

Helpy doesn’t get a chance to reply when the three-foot bear (‘Alec’, Greg reminds himself) approaches, making a few complicated hand movements and gestures. Sign language, if Greg was to guess.

“Oh, that’s cool, they even have animatronics that can communicate with deaf people.” Cyril comments, kneeling down to inspect him.

“People that are deaf.” Manuel corrects. “People come before the disability or disorder. It’s basic respect.”

“Oh,” Cyril says.

“Yes.” Helpy answers, ignoring them. “Alec here can’t talk so we’ve taught him sign language. We taught the others as well so they could understand him.”

‘Taught,’ Greg noted. ‘Not programmed.’

“Why can’t Alec talk?” Hadi asked. “Is there something wrong with his voice box? Surely an engineer or something could fix that?”

Helpy made a motion similar to a shrug. “Michael’s checked his voice box, nothing wrong. We’re not sure why he can’t talk.” Then, he turned to Alec. “Are you sure?”

Alec nods. Helpy hums.

(“They fucking programmed him to hum -- what the shit.” Someone swore quietly.)

“So,” Helpy continues, turning to the boys. “Alec says Michael needs to talk to Greg.”

“Okay,” Greg replies instantly, a few ideas of conversation already forming in his mind.

“Wait, what?” Hadi’s voice made him pause. “Why?”

“Wasn’t he talking to the police earlier?” Manuel asked. “Why would he need Greg right after?”

Cyril turned to Greg; eyes narrowed. “What the hell did you do?”

Greg gave him an offended look, but Helpy spoke for him. “What their conversation entails is classified, to you and to me.” So, Helpy didn’t know about it either? “Alec will take Greg to Michael; I’ll stick around and answer any questions you might have.”

Greg took that as his cue to leave, following Alec back to the Staff Only door. Alec led him a different way though, different twists and turns that got them to some sort of conference room. Michael was there, Carlton by his side, with a couple of officers, Greg’s parents and a few other people presumably involved with law enforcement sitting around a large table.

Alec seemed to hesitate, being three-foot-tall and standing around so many taller people. He lingered through, hiding my Michael’s feet. Why Alec was allowed to know what was going on, but Helpy wasn’t was a thought that momentarily passed by Greg’s thoughts as he walked over.

“Hey, kiddo.” Michael greeted him warmly. Greg smiled, but the collection of people around him kept him quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bienvenido - Spanish for 'welcome'  
> gracias - Spanish for 'thank you'


	7. Chapter 7

His father looked royally pissed, but more at Michael and the police then him. His mother looked scared and sad, she stared right at the ground and at nothing else, even when Greg had sat at the table.

“What’s yer name, kid?” One of the officers asks, though Greg suspects he already knew.

“Greg Lowe.” He answered anyway.

“Okay, Greg. I am officer Burke--” _Wait, Burke_? “and this is officer Ariza,” he continued, gesturing to his partner. He looked young. And nervous. New to the job, probably.

Officer Burke looked old enough to be his grandfather. Curly, thinning, brown-grey hair and tired dark eyes that look like they’d seen the world change. Officer Ariza, a far younger young man, had brown hair brushed out of his face (the act itself seemed foreign to him) with deep brown eyes that they could’ve been mistaken for black.

“My name is Lia,” the next says. Lia had black hair brushed back neatly and tired back into a bun. Her eyes were a golden-brown colour, and she had a slight gap between her front two teeth. “I’m an ICL.,” she says, smiling at him.

Greg blinks, nodding. “Do you know what that is?” Greg shook his head. Lia chuckles. “It means 'Independent Child Lawyer'. I can help you with legal decisions without your parents’ signature.” He nods, again - slowly.

“And I am Annelies, call me Anne. I’m a CPS worker.” The last woman says. She had long, blonde hair and green eyes.

“I like your accent,” Greg says quietly.

“Bedankt, Greg.”

“Michael called us.” Officer Ariza says, under the guidance of officer Burke. “He suspects some form of domestic abuse is going on at home. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Greg shrugged, fiddling with his fingers.

“Kiddo,” Michael calls to him quietly. “You need to talk to us.”

Greg grimaced. “It’s not that big a deal.” He muttered.

Carlton gave him a distressed look. “You have a bruise the shape of a hand around your neck.”

Greg’s mother lowered her head into her arms.

“Is there proof of this?” Officer Burke asked, staring at Carlton. Greg couldn’t tell what it was, but there was a tense air between them.

“I have photos,” Michael answers, pulling his phone. When did Michael get photos? Michael unlocked his phone then slid it over the table towards the officer, staring him down. Clearly, they had some sort-of relation, but it mustn’t be too good of a relationship.

“Besides,” Michael continued. “Isn’t this Mr Ariza’s case? You’re just here to supervise.”

The two women looked between them uncomfortably, and Ariza looked confused. Greg’s father eyed them all carefully.

“I deny ever hurting my son.” He says. “I don’t have a child.”

“Well, we’re aware you’ve disowned him at this point.” Carlton hissed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dad said. He turned his head slowly, to look at Mum. “Would you like to tell them, _sweetheart_?”

Anyone in the room could pick up on the unspoken threat in that pet name. Mom lifted her head, took a deep breath and stared at the middle of the table. “Greg is the child of a man I had an affair with.”

Lia consciously closed her mouth. Anne frowned. Ariza was looking at Burke, who hadn’t really reacted to this. Michael and Carlton didn’t react either. 

Greg was silent. How was he supposed to react to that?

“An affair.” Michael echoed quietly as if to trick everyone out of their staring.

“Didn’t really seem like an affair to me.” Burke continued. 

“Excuse me?” Steven spat.

“When Michael brought Greg up to me, I did a background check on the family.” Burke continued. “Greg was born in January, two thousand ‘n eight. Meaning he had to’ve been conceived about April two thousand ‘n seven. And paperwork back then has Hillary engaged to a man named Connor Durham. A man who was murdered about July that same year.”

Steven and Hillary were both pale, and Greg couldn’t move. He couldn’t _breathe_. This wasn’t real. It _couldn’t_ be real.

“Are you accusing me of murder?” Steven asked. “Because I know the law. And I know you need proof to make such an accusation.”

Burke shrugged and tilted his head toward Michael. “When I dropped Greg off at home this morning, I stuck around a little, spoke to Hillary.” She nods, confirming this. “I also managed to sneak around the house a bit. Got into the basement and reported what I found to the police.”

“Right now, the station has a warrant and is searching the house.” Burke finishes.

Hillary looked scared, pale and stiff, unmoving in her chair. Steven was shaking with rage, his face was red. Greg was gone, lost in his own mind. It was perfect.

His father moved quickly, wrapping an arm around Greg’s neck, the other unsheathing a gun from his belt. He cocked the weapon and held it up to Greg’s temple. The boy was too lost in his own head to realise.

The young officer and both women tensed, Officer Burke and Carlton looked angry, his mother hadn’t moved, and Michael was already on his feet.

“Leave him alone.” Michael spat, glaring over the table at Steven.

“Hillary, we’re leaving.” Steven hissed. The woman moved robotically, standing up and slowly walking to stand beside her husband. “If anyone here tries to interfere.” He moves the gun toward Michael, already inching his way closer. “I’ll shoot.”

Michael blinks and steps forward. Steven (and therefore Hillary) and backwards. “I’m warning you!” He yelled; the gun still trained on Michael’s form.

“Shoot me,” Michael says coolly. “It’s not going to stop me.”

“It won’t,” Burke confirmed. “I’ve tried.”

(The other three looked at him, a mix of scared, confused and shocked.)

Steven bared his teeth and pulled the trigger. Michael’s shirt stained red in seconds. But he did not stop getting closer, his step didn’t falter, and Steven paled.

“What are you?” He whimpered as Michael stood over him, hands on Greg’s shoulders. 

Michael’s eyes shifted, turning a bright yellow. They looked robotic and evil. “A nightmare.”

Hillary ripped the gun from Steven’s hand and shot Michael as many times as the gun allowed. He narrowed his eyes at her as she gasped and stepped back. Her back hit the door. Officer Burke (and an Officer Ariza who was on the verge of a panic attack) handcuffed the pair and Michael attempted to bring Greg back to his senses.

Michael sat back in his chair, holding Greg’s arms as the teenager stood numbly in front of him. Michael leant forward in an attempt to see into Greg’s eyes. “Kiddo? You there? Talk to me.”

Greg didn’t speak, but he did move. He hugged Michael, climbing into his lap and burying his face into the bloody fabric of his shirt.

“Kiddo?” Michael asked. “This is nice ‘n all but you gotta talk to me.”

“Papa,” Greg muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear. “I don’ wan’ to.”

Michael blinked.

“What happened to him?” Lia asked.

“This happened last night as well,” Michael says to her. “He just sort of started acting younger; I’m not sure why but it seems like a subconscious thing.”

“Oh, he’s regressing.” Anne realises aloud.

“Regressing?”

“It might be because of a medical or psychiatric issue. Some people experiencing significant distress or pain may revert to childlike behaviour as a means to cope with anxiety or fear.” She sounded like she was reciting something she’d read. “It can be a symptom of some other disorder as well though, so it might be best to get a proper diagnosis.”

Michael hummed as he pulled Greg closer, hugging the teen close.

Lia gave Michael a concerned look. “Are you okay?” She asked. “You were shot… multiple times.”

“I’m fine,” Michael replied. “I’m pretty immune to stuff like that.”

“Bullets?” she asked sceptically.

Carlton pulled a few pieces of paper out of his bag -- some stapled, some not -- and laid them out on the table.

“What’re these?” Ariza asked.

“Contracts,” Carlton replied. “You need to sign one.”

“Are these legal?” he asked.

“Yep.” Officer Burke said, making sure neither Steven nor Hillary could make a break for the exit. “I made sure a few years ago.”

“How do you know them again, sir?” Ariza asked. Burke sighed.

“Thanks, dad.” Carlton deadpans, not looking up from the contracts he was handing out.

Ariza blinked. “Oh…” he still looks like he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“What’re these contracts for?” Anne asked.

“Keeping quiet.” Officer Burke – Clay – replied. “It’s mostly to keep Michael’s little secret under wraps.”

“The not dying thing?” Lia asked.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even know what I’d tell people,” Ariza says, reading over the contract in his hands. “I mean- there are tons of stories of people surviving gunshots. I heard of a guy that got a metal pole through the skull and was fine.”

“Yeah.” Clay stared at him for a moment. “Well, not everything is as it seems.”

Ariza made a face. “Are you sure this is legal?”

“I made it.”

After a thorough read-through of the contracts (which basically made it so the people who signed couldn’t legally talk about Michael’s “condition”) and Steven and Hillary were forced into the back of Clay’s police car the remaining two women stood idle, not quite sure what to do.

“You’ve signed the contracts.” Carlton acknowledges. “So, if anything like this happens again, we’ll probably call on you.”

“That’s okay,” Anne says, though she didn’t seem quite sure. She takes a breath and straightens her back. “We’re here for the safety of the next generation.”

Lia was on the phone, hurriedly talking in her native language to the other on the phone. The group caught the names Danny, Tobi and Nicholaas and guessed she was talking too (or about) her family.

“This issue really isn’t over yet, though, I suppose.” Anne continues. “Greg would legally have to come with me since his parents have been arrested, and, if you and Michael are interested in adopting him, there’s documents and other actions we have to take to make sure your household is a good place to look after him.”

“Home inspection.” Carlton translated for himself. “I’m sure that’s fine. We’ll work something out.”

He looked over to Greg, being held like a toddler in Michael’s arms, already knocked out and asleep. Michael had his eyes closed, slowly swaying from one foot to the other, looking like he’s never been in more peace in his life (despite his jacket being covered in blood).

Carlton walked over and placed a hand on Michael’s arm. He opened his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Greg’s gotta go with Anne, now.” Michael nods but hesitates with the koala grip the teenager has on him.

“Should I just go with you?” he asked.

“That might be best.” Anne acknowledges. “It’d be best for the process to be explained to Greg by someone he trusts.”

Carlton clings to Michael’s arm before he can leave. “Be safe.” He says quietly, tugging the taller down to kiss him.

“Always,” Michael replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bedankt - Dutch for 'thank you'
> 
> I feel like this could've been better tbh


	8. Chapter 8

Carlton carried Alec out into the main part of the mall. He wandered around a bit, until he found Helpy, happily talking to a group of excited children, telling them a story. Carlton placed Alec on the ground and let him weave through the crowd to get the three teenagers.

They gave him a sceptical look as they came over (practically being dragged by Alec since they didn’t understand sign language).

“Are you Greg’s friends?” Carlton asked.

“Yeah,” Hadi replied. “Who’re you?”

“Carlton Burke.”

“Oh, Michael’s husband,” Cyril commented. “Greg told us about you.”

“Where is Greg?” Manuel asked.

“There’s been a problem with his parents,” Carlton says.

“What problem?” Hadi asked.

Carlton pursed his lips. “They’ve both uh… be arrested…” There was no point in lying.

“Arrested?” Cyril echoed.

“For what?” Manuel asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Carlton says. “But Greg is in custody with CPS, they’re working on a way to handle his home situation right now.”

“Is Michael with him?” Hadi asked. 

“Yes.”

The teenagers muttered amongst themselves. 

“Is he okay?” Cyril asked.

“He’s well and safe,” Carlton assures him.

Hadi looked doubtful. “You have blood on you.”

Carlton, a little surprised, looked at his hands. It was hardly noticeable, but he did have small specks of Michael’s blood on his hands.

Manuel and Cyril had paled.

“It’s not Greg’s blood.” He says. “It’s Michael’s. Greg’s parents were… violent. I’m not legally allowed to tell you what happened, but I can assure you no one got hurt that badly. Michael is fine.”

Hadi still didn’t look like he believed him. “Alright.”

“Now, myself and Ms Lia over there.” He gestured to the lawyer, still talking on the phone a fair distance away. “Have been tasked by CPS to pick up some of Greg’s things. You all know his address, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Hadi muttered. “We’ll take you.”

“Thank you, boys.”

\--

Greg didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep until he was waking up again. He wasn’t sure where his head was, and he was stuck trying to remember everything that’d happened in that conference room.

He remembered his father not really being his father and then… nothing. He remembered nothing after that. He was wearing different clothes and had been sleeping awkwardly in a chair. When had he been moved? Who dressed him?

He tilted his neck to pop it and looked over. Michael was sitting in a chair at a small table, Carlton by his side, talking quietly with Anne. ~~Michael also had a different outfit.~~

“Papa?” He asked instinctively, a surprising amount of joy blooming through his chest when Michael responded to the name.

Michael looked over, looking slightly surprised, but smiled softly at him. “What’s up, kiddo? Sleep well?”

Greg rubbed the sleep out of his eye and nodded. He walked over and leant into Michael’s side, looking over the table at the documents strewn across it. “How long was I out for?”

“Just a few hours,” Michael replied.

“It’s seven,” Carlton added waving his phone in the air.

“We’re glad you’re awake,” Anne says, drawing their attention to her. She gestured to the chair Greg had been sleeping in. “Grab a seat, we need to talk.”

Greg grumbled at the idea of physical work to soon after waking but complied and dragged the chair over. He sat in a ball in the chair, pulling the blanket over his shoulders again.

“So, Greg, just to refresh, do you remember what happened earlier this afternoon?”

“Mum said Dad wasn’t actually my Dad and then I blacked out,” Greg responded.

“Blacked out? So, you don’t remember anything after that?” Anne asked.

“Nope.”

She hummed and wrote on a clipboard.

“Is that bad?” Greg whispered to Michael. 

Michael shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He whispered back. “Probably for the best.”

“So, Michael has told us you express interest in staying with him and Carlton in the absence of your parents?” Anne continued.

“Oh, yes. I have.” He nodded.

“Well, the process for that is difficult,” Anne says. “Michael and Carlton need to have a home inspection, as well as a look at their work schedules to see if they’re fit to look after a child. The process will be longer since you need to talk to a psychiatrist and perhaps a therapist.”

“Why would I need to see a psychiatrist?” Greg asked.

“Well, after so long under the abuse of-” she pauses. “Well, Steven – he’s not really your father – and the neglect of your mother, it would be expected for you to develop some sort of habit or disorder to cope with the trauma of it.”

“Like PTSD?” He asked.

“Maybe. You’d need to talk to a psychiatrist to find out. Again, you might not it’s just a just in case.”

“It might explain why you blacked out,” Carlton adds.

Greg nods. He would like an answer to that. “Okay.”

Anne looks through her notes. “So, how this is going to work; Child Protective Services will inspect the house, see if it’s good for a child to live in – the required list of necessities is on this sheet.” She slid a few pieces of paper over the table. Michael picked it up. “Then, if the house is fit for Greg to live in, there will be a period where Greg can live in the house under the supervision of CPS to see if he’s being properly taken care of; which includes transport to and from school, appropriate doctors’ appointments, and appropriate after school activities.”

She taps the clipboard. “That makes it sound like a quicker process than it is. Michael and Carlton don’t have children of their own or adopted before so they will have to undergo a training process which in of itself will take at most two months.

And then CPS will meet with them, and extended friends and family to get a hint of what they’re like as a family which will be about a four-month process.

Then it’ll be a ten-week process of Greg living in the home with regular visits from CPS to properly finalise the adoption process.”

“So… eight months.” Michael summed up.

“Are you willing to go through with that?” Anne asked. “It is a big commitment.”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t willing to,” Michael replied.

“We’ve spoken about it for a while, actually,” Carlton added, reaching across the table and hold Michael’s hand. “We know what we’re willing to do.”

Michael placed his other hand on Greg’s arm and smiled at him. Michael couldn’t help but smile back.

\--

Greg had found the first few months agonisingly slow, but at least he could share with his friends about what happened. He told them what he remembered, (and what he’d later been told) and they all gave him their support in the process. (Cyril gave up on thinking Michael was a paedophile after learning the man literally took a few bullets to the chest for Greg.)

He also saw a psychiatrist because he had no choice. After an explanation of what happened from Greg’s point of view (and a reflection of other probably traumatic experiences), he was diagnosed with Dissociative Amnesia described as; the temporary loss of recall memory, due to a traumatic or stressful event.

The age regression was also explained as a self-therapeutic way of dealing with said stress. Whilst usually a conscious thing, Greg managed to enter “little space” (as it was called) subconsciously through the disassociation.

Greg didn’t quite know how to handle that. He didn’t tell his friends, but Michael and Carlton already knew. Greg didn’t mind the little space, he liked being cared for by them (the proper title being a caregiver), but it felt embarrassing to ask for some of the standard things that people who usually age regress had.

Like sippy cups, or pacifiers, or stuffies. Michael was very open-minded and willing to buy him them if Greg asked, but he hadn’t quite built up the courage yet.

(He was also informed of age play, or how similar terms are used in a sexual manner which put him off it a while. Carlton had to assure him they didn’t consider age regression – or Greg – in a sexual manner. ~~Michael was laughing too hard to do it~~.)

Aside from that, Greg actually felt happier. He loved living with them, even if the mandatory CPS visits were a little restricting in activity. Michael and Carlton were very friendly, even engaging in a sort of “family game night” on the weekend.

Whilst Greg’s friends weren’t aware of the age regression just yet, they were allowed to come over on the weekends to join in said games. Greg was happy to call Michael and Carlton his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this sounds like an ending and I promise it's not over yet, maybe like one more chapter


	9. SPECIAL; because it's my birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felt like posting something fluffy because it's my brithday

Manuel didn’t know much about Fetch, or what Greg’s parents did to get themselves arrested, but Greg seemed happy with his new family, so he figured it didn’t matter too much.

Cyril and Hadi were busy over the weekend, so it was just him visiting Greg. It was strange when he thought about it. Whenever they were at the house, they never went into Greg’s room. They knew he _had_ one, but they were never allowed inside. They hadn’t even seen it.

Manuel didn’t mind, it was nice to have privacy, but it was just odd how Greg made an effort to hide his bedroom from them.

This weekend was actually a sleepover. That usually meant them being camped out in the living room watching whatever movie caught their interest.

Carlton was in bed around this time, and Michael was around. His schedule seemed to vary, but it was like he never slept. Greg just said he had insomnia and they left it at that. (Manuel doubted it though. He never seemed all that tired.)

Greg was acting strange as well. Like he was debating something in his head. “D'ya wanna sleep in my room tonight?” He asked, suddenly. “My bed is a ton more comfortable than the couch.”

“Uh, alright?” Manuel replied. He didn’t know what to expect but, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited.

Greg’s room was… a lot more childish then he’d thought it would be. There were a few stuffed animals on his bed and more spread about the room. He had colouring books and pencils on the floor, a few onesies around and lettered blocks and children’s toys on the floor.

“Don’t judge me,” Greg muttered, the second they entered his room.

“I’m not,” Manuel assured. “Just… I dunno what to say.”

“It’s part of a coping mechanism I have- because of everything that happened,” Greg explained, sitting down and hugging one of the animals on his bed. “It’s called age regression. Basically, I get into the headspace of a younger child because it reminds me of a happier time.”

“Ah, okay,” Manuel replied.

“I _was_ going to tell everyone, but the other two didn’t fucking show up,” Greg added, burying his face into the faux fur a little.

“Why are you so cute?” Manuel laughed.

“Awe, are you flirting with me?” Greg cooed, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.”

Greg paused. “Wait- really?”

“You didn’t realise?!” Manuel asked. “Your Dad did!”

“Oh god,” Greg muttered, his face going red. “Which one?”

“Both.” Greg tried to hide his face in his hands. Manuel gently pulled his wrists away from his face. “You look pretty with a red face.”

“N-no I don’t,” Greg replied.

“Are you embarrassed?” Manuel teased.

Greg grumbled.

“Hey.” Manuel let go of Greg’s wrists to cup his face instead. Neither had noticed he was basically on top of him. “Is this okay?”

Greg nodded slowly. Manuel brought him closer.

Their kiss was awkward, to say the least. Neither really knew what they were doing. It took them a hot second, but they found a rhythm. They found a comfortable place for their arms (Manuel holding himself up and Greg with his arms in Manuel’s hair). Greg was the first to pull back for air.

Manuel shifted them as Greg breathed, moving to a more comfortable position. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Greg asked.

“Just- with everything you’ve been through-”

“Hey, no.” Greg sat up, pulling Manuel’s hands into his own. “I’m not just using this as some coping mechanism. I already have one, and I wouldn’t be able to do that to another person.”

“Nn, you’re too soft,” Manuel commented, entwining their fingers.

Greg smiled but hushed him. “I really like you, Manuel. I want to give this a go.”

“You’re sure?” He muttered.

“If you ask me again, I will kick you.”

Manuel chuckled but pulled Greg into another kiss. It was better this time.


	10. Chapter 10

Greg enjoyed accompanying Michael to work. Most of the staff were aware of their situation, but as far as they bothered to care; Greg was just Michael’s kid. It felt validating.

He liked watching Michael work through the crossbeams and wires, and plastic, and programming it took to build one of the animatronics. He’d always explain it in detail, more so when Greg asked questions. He’d let him help too if it wasn’t too dangerous.

Essentially, Greg helped re-build Fetch, in a few different small ways. Michael did that actual work, but Greg could imagine. He explained some updates he made to Fetch’s programming.

Full sentences, emojis, a camera in his eyes and location detection, he could detect heart rate, had a criminal database, and functioning retractable claws. All for safety or simplicity reasons, Michael assured him. (It didn’t sound simple...)

Getting Fetch up and running was actually exciting. He acted more like a proper dog, now. Michael said he was actually programmed like a therapy dog, with more realistic fur. That’s what the heart rate detection programming was for. It was as if his purpose was mostly to protect Greg, now. (It probably was, considering Michael was a bit more overprotective than he let on.)

Greg actually forgot about the texting feature until he was reminded in a group chat Carlton had made named; 'Family', followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

* * *

Fetch: Hi <3

Dad: What the fuck

Papa: Lmao

Dad: No, Michael, seriously, what the fuck is that

Me: That’s Fetch

Dad: ???

Dad: the dog thing you were working on???

Dad: why is it texting us?????

Papa: it had a texting feature

Dad: Michael we are not adopting a dog

Papa: it’s a robot

Me: Please dad??

Dad: don’t gang up on me

Me: daddd!!

Me: please!!

Papa: yeah dad

Dad: Michael no

Papa: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Dad: Did you just…?

Me: hjsdkmsdlfsd

Dad: we’re not adopting a dog

Fetch: please??

Papa: I-

Papa: lol

Dad: no

Me: but daaad

Papa: where else are we gonna put him?

Papa: the mall?

Papa: he’s not a real dog

Papa: plus he’s got a ton of safety features programmed in

Papa: I’d know

Dad: FINE

Dad: But you’re looking after him, Greg

Me: Yeah, yeah, responsibility

Dad: :(

Dad: Michael your son is bullying me

Papa: *our

Papa: good

Dad: I wish I could say you’re sleeping on the couch tonight

Dad: but you probably just won’t sleep at all

Papa: love you too mon amour <3

Dad: >:(

Dad: <3

* * *

Greg though the actual dog bed they ended up getting for Fetch was funny. He wasn’t sure what Carlton’s problem with Fetch was about, but it seems like was just afraid of getting attached (which he did).

Greg did pull through with looking after Fetch. Though, which mostly meant giving him a bath whenever he got too dirty. Michael taught him how to do it without causing water damage (it was a slow process, but Fetch sat still so he actually made it easier) then just left it to him.

During this time, Greg was also informed properly about Alec. The bear (Lonely Freddy, as it was actually called) was made to lure people away and body swap with them. Greg found it hard to believe, but Michael brought up what happened with Fetch, and things started to click into place.

He helped get Alec his body back (and was only slightly upset in learning that Alec was taller than him). Alec himself didn’t want to go home either, and after some difficult process of arguing with Alec’s parents and the court, Michael managed to adopt both Alec and his younger sister Hazel. Greg, being an old child his entire life, didn’t mind the additional characters he got to call his siblings.

Greg would’ve initially thought Alec was mute, or deaf since he knew sign language, but he wasn’t. It was just because he couldn’t talk for some reason as the machine so Michael taught him (and himself) sign language to they could communicate.

Hazel was a delight, and she loved Fetch. Alec was… harder to get along with. But Greg could tell he was trying to be nicer, and that Alec did genuinely appreciate what’d been done for him.

Game nights with more people were more fun though. Michael didn’t play often, but he made humorous commentary, usually lying with his head in Carlton’s lap. Greg played with Fetch non-stop texting his phone, attempting to join in playing. Alec and Hazel were both very competitive, and better at the games since they were more used to the “family bonding” thing.

Cyril, Hadi and Manuel – whilst pretty much in the dark about most of Alec and Hazel’s story – accepted that they were there and got along well enough with them.

Everyone who didn’t know about Greg’s age regression reacted well-ish when they found out. Hazel – being ten – just was happy to have someone who’d join in with her games. Alec didn’t really understand, but he also didn’t care enough to bother with it. He looked after Greg if he had to but otherwise just waited for it to pass. Cyril and Hadi weren’t even around the house enough to need to care about it, but they picked up on whenever it happened round school and would help him best they could.

Greg was happy with his new family. He wouldn’t trade them for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec will have his own story, that's why it's not expanded on too much here


End file.
